But deep in the seaweed-haunted halls in the green unlighted deep,
Inhuman kings await the day that shall break their chains of sleep.
And far in a grim untrodden land on a jungle-girded hill,
A pillar stands like a sign of Fate, in subtle warning still.
—Robert E. Howard (The Symbol)
Have you ever felt the tread of little feet walking across the top of your skull? Footsteps on your skull, back and forth, back and forth? —Robert Bloch (Enoch)
‘Deaf, as he would be for the rest of his days, Stewart Baker slowly glanced back. Sweat poured from his brow and mixed with the blood caked on his shirt. He half expected the colossus of the snails to roar down the trenasse in pursuit, crushing everything in its wake. He almost welcomed the death by such a terrifying beast.’
—Jeffrey LeBlanc (Island of the Giant Snail)
“Ah! little ken’d thy reverend grannie,
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi’ twa pund Scots (’twas a’ her riches),
Wad ever grac’d a dance of witches!”
— Robert Burns (Tam O’ Shanter)
“Start not—nor deem my spirit fled:
In me behold the only skull
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.
I lived, I loved, I quaff’d, like thee:
I died: let earth my bones resign;
Fill up—thou canst not injure me;
The worm hath fouler lips than thine.”–Lord Byron (Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull)
“All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.”
–Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Haunted Houses)
And human heads, many of them, scattered about like an assembly of mocking, dead-alive faces, leering at him, watching him with hellish anticipation. The place was a morgue—a charnel house!”–Hugh B. Cave (Stragella)
“Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me;
Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
Dim are the pathways and rocks that remind me
Sadly of years in the lost nevermore.
Soft laps the ocean on wave-polish’d boulder;
Sweet is the sound and familiar to me.
Here, with her head gently bent to my shoulder,
Walk’d I with Unda, the Bride of the Sea.”— H.P. Lovecraft (Unda, or The Bride of the Sea)
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Old Masson, the caretaker of one of Salem’s oldest and most neglected cemeteries, had a feud with the rats.–Henry Kuttner (The Graveyard Rats)
“They were rotted human eyes—the stare of a corpse, looking back at him.”
— Thomas Swafford (The Pumpkin Patch)
“I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.”— H.P. Lovecraft (The Survivor)
“Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee—and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.”— Edgar Allan Poe (Spirits of the Dead)
“I don’t think you were wise to do that,” he said reflectively. “I’ve heard it said that the Wood Gods are rather horrible to those who molest them.”
“Horrible perhaps to those that believe in them, but you see I don’t,” retorted Sylvia.
— Saki (The Music on the Hill)
“Rip and claw flesh and hair,
Gnaw the bones, lap the blood without care,
Moonlight in the cold dark gloom,
Illuminates the black stones of tombs,
Down in the hollow, night winds howl,
Stalk bestial in darkness with the owl,—Jeffrey LeBlanc (Cry of the Werewolf)
“I stooped, raised the dagger, then paused, looked up. The moon hovered close to her zenith. If I slew the thing as a man its frightful spirit would haunt me forever.” — Robert E. Howard (In the Forest of Villefere) #halloween #weirdtales #werewolf #robertehoward #hplovecraft #cmeddyjr #ralphallanlang #thesilverknife #pirateghost#werewolfbook #werewolfbynight #wolfman #wolf #hauntedhouse #rattleofbones #wolfman […]
Jeffrey LeBlanc 